When Kevin O'Reilly Nearly Ruined Christmas
by cheers88
Summary: Holiday hijinks ensue when the Marauders press James to confess his feelings for Lily.


Written for Jily Secret Santa Exchange

Some silly fluff for Sonya :) Merry Christmas!

* * *

"_I really can't stay_…but ba-by it's cold outside…_I've got to go away_…but baby it's cold out-siiiide…" She was adjusting her voice to make the alternating lyrics deeper, a faux duet if you will, and it was absolutely adorable. Lily Evans, as always, was absolutely adorable. _Dammit._

"-been hoping that you'd drop in (again, the deeper male voice)-oh Merlin, James!"

He had meant to stay quiet in the doorway, but she had lined what seemed like every inch of the Head's office with various holiday decorations, and the door was now adorned with about a dozen jingly bells.

He grinned in greeting, both delighted and a bit apologetic at the sight of her flushed cheeks. "I used to fancy myself inconspicuous, you know. I also just ate roughly 37 sugar cookies, so I may be shaking a bit."

"Potter, you're about as inconspicuous as a pair of dragons shagging."

She had already recovered from her brief embarrassment, smirking at him with bright eyes. It was moments like these, especially – when Lily held her own, when she showed a flash of inappropriate and a wealth of wit – that made James's heart thump hard against his chest. It was moments like this one that made him certain that there was so much more to the way he felt about her, so much more than a silly boyhood crush that had overstayed its welcome.

"Well, reckon I know what my nightmares will be tonight. Thanks, Evans."

Her grin widened. "Bloody scary, yeah? Sort of like this one time in second year when an awful boy turned my knapsack into a _spider_. Who was that again? I can't seem to recall…"

"Do you _recall_ if the bruise ever healed from where you punched him in the stomach?"

"Hmm, I don't actually." She stroked her chin thoughtfully, eyes sparkling. "_Let's check_."

He swallowed, a sudden lump in his throat. "Er…h-how would we do that?"

_Stupid, sodding idiot. _

"I was thinking you could just lift up your shirt, but wouldn't want to compromise this delicate code of decency you clearly have going. No worries, Potter, I won't steal your virtue."

"Power has corrupted you, Lily Evans."

She let out an infectious cackle of laughter, long red hair falling (in a manner he thought was quite lovely) in her face.

He relished this momentary lapse in conversation, too, for it allowed the briefest opportunity for much needed recovery. For James, the ever-growing playfulness between them would be much more enjoyable if it wasn't so excruciatingly confusing. It had been tough enough to deal with his feelings when Lily Evans had despised him, and yet it was somehow just as bad (maybe worse) now that she didn't. Every smile, every teasing notion, every slight flirtation…it was hell. At minimum, teenaged boy hell. He waged a near constant battle with himself over whether to act on this newfound rapport—to reach for her hand, or ask her to Hogsmeade, or press her up against the wall and—

"James?"

"Hmm?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing himself to react to her words. _What had she said…think…something about…_

"So do you?"

"Do I…?"

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but her tone remained light: "Know any Muggle Christmas songs?"

He furrowed his brow, exaggerating deep thought. "There's one about a snowman, right? And everybody knows (he lifted a finger to tap at one of the bells on the door) Jingle Balls."

She pursed her lips, stifling another laugh. "_Bells_."

"…are balls that jingle."

"Yes, but…._nevermind_." She grinned again, and paused for just a second. They locked eyes, and it dimmed to a softer smile. "Hey, you have something..." She stood up and began to walk toward him.

He stood rooted to the spot as she came nearer, her steps continuing until her own feet were toe-to-toe with his trainers.

"You have a bit of powdered sugar right-" She lifted a hesitant hand, still smiling. "May I?"

"Oh, er, yeah…t-thanks." He dropped his chin to make it easier for her to reach his face, and tried to keep his breathing measured as her soft fingertips grazed his cheek.

"Sugar cookies, indeed."

There was a new sort of warmth in her gaze that he didn't dare to interpret himself. Rather, being the stressed teenaged boy that he was, his eyes darted away from their exchange and, even more unfortunately, landed directly on a sprig of greenery so serendipitously hanging on the ceiling above Lily Evans's head. _Surely, if there was ever a time_…

"Now_ you_ have something," he replied softly, pointing his finger skyward. He smiled as she tilted her head back to regard his finding, eager to see her reaction. He wasn't going to let anything get in the way of this too-perfect moment; not the tangled knot of nerves in his stomach, or the cheesiness, or—.

A startled yelp broke him out of his reverie, and the moment he re-focused was followed shortly by a brisk push out of the doorway.

"James, you didn't touch that, did you?!"

"Er, I—."

"Merlin, we're going to have to report this to McGonagall _now_. She is _not _going to be pleased. That old codger! He _promised_ me he had taken them all down!"

"Lily, wait—_what_?"

"Bloody Filch approached McGonagall the other day with this so-called 'brilliant' plan of how to control our 'fraternization' issues." She held up air quotes with her fingers to punctuate as she spoke. "He hung up bits of Pruritus Rubrum all over the castle to try to discourage the younger kids from…canoodling."

"Prudence _who_?"

"Pru-ri-tus Ru-brum. i know you were there the day we studied it in Herbology."

"Physically, perhaps, not _consciously_. What the hell is it? It looks just like…" He didn't complete the sentence, realizing the obviousness implied in his admittance.

Her cheeks colored (he noticed and mentally kicked himself in the shins), but she didn't hesitate. "Mistletoe, yes. That's rather the point. It's highly contagious, and if you come into contact with it—even a little—you break out in a horrible, maddening mess of a rash. I accidentally touched it with my pinky finger that day and I literally begged Pomfrey on bended knee for the antidote. It's miserable."

"Has he lost his fucking mind?"

She laughed lightly. "Yes, exactly." She chewed on her lip for a moment, hesitating. "Anyway, I suppose I should go and let her know straight away…right?"

He nodded quickly. "Right. Right. And…Lily, I hope you don't think i was trying to—."

Their replies intersected. "You weren't?"

"—prank you or something. Wait, you did? I swear I—."

"No, _no_, of course not. Why would I think that?" She flushed again.

"Then what were you…"

She was chewing on her lip again. When she began speaking, her pace was more frenetic than usual. "No worries, we're good. Silly misunderstanding. I'm going to run up to McGonagall…perhaps start a crusade to get Filch sacked, yeah? If I don't talk to you before the trains leave tomorrow, I hope your hols are…rash-free and lovely!"

She leaned in again for a moment, but paused midway. "And…h-happy Christmas!"

He forced a smile, refusing to sulk in front of her. "Happy Christmas, Lily."

_Dammit._

* * *

Sirius Black was pacing, his eyes alight with a mischievous glint that could only mean he was mid-scheme. Seemingly finished with a delightful inner monologue, he abruptly stopped in front of James and posed in a smug lean against the common room wall.

"Prongs, here's what happens if you don't get your sorry arse over there right now: Evans goes home for Christmas, all 'woe is me, that lanky berk knows as much about romance as he does poisonous plants-."

"Lanky? I would hardly say I'm—."

"You're all legs, mate." Peter Pettigrew added from his seat on the floor, nodding emphatically.

Flushing, James crossed his arms and turned toward the two boys playing Gobstones to his left. "Moony, Sanchez, tell them I have a proportional torso."

The latter, a chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team and James's anticipated soon-to-be successor, glanced up quite quickly. "Er…absolutely. Strong core."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Merlin, Jason, I hope when James passes the team to you he has a spare pair of testicles to hand over as well."

The boy paused his efforts in the game to hold a very specific finger up in the air. "Sod off, Black."

The intended was unfazed. He turned his attention to Sanchez's opponent. "Moony, my good fellow, make it short and sweet. There's a point to be made."

Remus Lupin attempted a sober face. "Well, Prongs…It's like that Muggle story, Jack and the Beanstalk." His face broke out into a rare smirk. "Except there isn't a lad named Jack trying to climb you."

The small group broke into snickers, a pink-faced James noticeably glaring at the rest.

"Oy, comedians, the lot of you! Very helpful, thanks." His eyes wandered briefly over to the redhead perched in an armchair across the room, laughing uproariously at something Dorcas Meadowes had told her. He fisted a handful of hair and tugged, grumbling to himself.

"Anyway, where was I again?"

Sirius's question was undeniably rhetorical, but an eager Peter answered regardless. "Evans was home for Christmas, depressed and reckoning Prongs is good for nothing."

Ignoring his best mate's sullen mug, Sirius grinned. "Ah, many thanks, Wormtail. Evans is home and has officially given up on Prongs, no matter how long his legs or how strong his core (James's glower intensified) – _oy, mate, lighten up_! So, Evans is home and stuffing herself with Christmas cookies when her old mate Kevin rings—."

"Who the bloody hell is _Kevin_?" James interrupted.

"Kevin is the dashing young gent who Evans has had a crush on since she was a wee girl. He spends his free time in libraries, he buys birds roses just because, he volunteers to read to blind nuns—."

"Kevin is fictional," Remus clarified from the floor, not bothering to take his eyes away from the game this time.

As James heaved a sigh of relief, Sirius huffed. "_Technically_, I don't know Evans's life, so _technically_ I don't know for sure whether Kevin exists or doesn't exist, but do you know what I _do_ know, Prongs? The potential of a Kevin is not to be underestimated. Because when _you_ wimp out, when _you_ pull back, is when _Kevin_ swoops in on his white horse and nabs your fair dame!"

"Are we talking about Kevin O'Reilly?" Peter scratched the side of his head as he tried to picture the 6th year in question.

"_We could be._" Sirius answered enigmatically.

"You just said he was Muggle!" James retorted, a thunderous undertone to his voice.

"More importantly," piped up Remus, "_I_ just said he was fictional. Moot points all around, yeah?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Pompous Moony is my least favorite of all the Moonys."

"I can think of worse qualities." Remus raised a sardonic brow.

"Right," interrupted James, "Swotty Moony is no peach, either. Or Glumly Ironic Moony, for that matter."

"Wasn't this about James?"

"Lupin makes an excellent point. I will not be deterred!" Sirius raised a triumphant fist in the air.

"Oy, Remus, did you have to get him going again?"

"He's bloody annoying when he thinks he has a point. And honestly, I think he might." Remus shrugged his shoulders.

"About _Kevin_?"

"He's going to pummel Kevin O'Reilly," Peter cringed. "—and the poor bloke's going to be _so_ confused."

Remus sighed. "I'm about spent on the Kevin rubbish—you're all on your own now. _But_, he has a small, very hidden point somewhere in there about Prongs wimping out when it comes to Lily. Something has changed, mate. Since when does Lily joke with you about taking your shirt off? It's bizarre. She's either ill or she likes you, and it's more likely the latter because she's been stock piling Pepper Up potion like the bloody plague is on its way."

"And birds don't joke about you taking your clothes off unless they _want you_ to take your clothes off." Jason mused. "_Or_ they want to take them off for you, which I generally prefer."

Sirius smirked. "Don't we all, Sanchez, don't we all."

James threw up his hands, gesticulating. "What do you expect me to do – just grab her and snog her and that's that? 'Happy Christmas, Lily, here's some tongue.' That isn't how this works!"

"If you can manage to do that and not infect her with some kind of poisonous spore, then generally yes." Remus answered.

"No risk, no reward." Sirius confirmed. "Now, go over there and—oh, _fuck_."

Peter craned his neck to follow his friend's line of vision. "Yep, she's gone."

James turned again toward the armchairs Lily and Dorcas had been occupying. The pair of girls appeared to have retired for the evening. _Bloody hell._

Sirius held up a single finger, his demeanor suddenly calm. "Gentlemen, there is always Plan B."

* * *

The next morning, Thomas Hall had broken up with Annabel Ackerman on the platform. The latter had burst into hysterics and locked herself and every other Gryffindor girl – most notably, one Miss Lily Evans—in a private cabin for the entirety of the train ride. Lily had had one of the prefects deliver James a note pleading that if he handled train rounds alone, she'd organize patrol shifts for two weeks when hols were over. He despised handling patrols, and yet it was still the worst consolation prize ever.

Nevertheless, he had promptly been assured that "when Plan B fails, plan C prevails." Or something like that – he'd been too annoyed to pay much attention to Sirius.

And Plan C? Well, Plan C resulted in this:

_J-_

_I'm not handing over Lily's address. One, because you should be asking her for it yourself. And two, because I don't think her father will take kindly to strange blokes on his doorstep on Christmas Eve. Especially ones that aren't fat, bearded (can you grow a beard?), and wearing a red jumpsuit. _

_And also, because she's not even going to be there. Our little angel is helping her Mum's friend run her flower shop. What a saint, right? I've been knocking back firewhiskey with my cousin since noon. To each his own, I suppose. _

_Directions are written on the back. Good tidings to you and all of your kin xx_

_-Dorcas_

_P.S. The Annabel/Hall thing hurt me so much more than it hurt you. Trust me. My ears are still ringing and I have dried up pumpkin pasties smeared all over my favorite coat. Bah Humbug._

And therefore, Plan C had evolved into Plan D. And so there he was, strolling as casually as he could muster into an empty shop called "A Rose By Any Other Name" on Christmas Eve. _Merlin, he needed a break already._

It's quite possible that the quick devolvement of a kiss under the mistletoe to Plans A through D had left him unbearably weary. It's also possible that apparating directly into a puddle had, _er_, dampened his spirits. But it was most likely the sheer length of time he had waited for this moment—the defining moment where he'd finally let Lily Evans knew how he truly felt, and what would be would be—that resulted in a less than desirable greeting.

He honestly couldn't help it much, either, because there he was—jittery, and hopeful, and barely containing himself. And there was Lily, standing behind a counter opposite a tall (_not_ as tall as he was), blonde bloke about their age, smiling and laughing at something the creton had said. Damn Padfoot to eternal, fiery hell.

And he had almost saved face—he'd made to turn around and retreat as quickly as possible—but in the split second that he made the decision, the boy lifted a hand in farewell and turned on his heel. He nodded his head in a friendly gesture at James, who barely took notice as Lily Evan's eyes fell upon him and widened.

"_James_?"

Though shocked, her voice held a layer of delight that he was unfortunately too far gone in delusional assumptions to notice.

"Was that bloody Kevin?!" He accused, marching straight up to the counter and pointing a finger toward the now exiting back of the blonde bloke.

Lily's brows instantly furrowed. "Kevin? _Who_?"

Unabashed, he raked his hands through his hair and tugged hard. "The perfect git, Kevin—the one who knows all the right things to say and when to say them and buys flowers for no reason…Merlin, he was buying flowers! He was buying flowers at the flower shop, that _sodding_ bastard!"

Lily crossed her arms, a slightly amused look gracing her features. "Flowers at the flower shop, yes." She narrowed her eyes at him. "What are you on about now?"

"_Kevin_," he muttered pathetically.

"Kevin O'Reilly?"

"Oh, for the love of Merlin with Kevin _bloody_ O'Reilly again! _Did you used to snog him or something_?"

Her mouth dropped open. "_Excuse you! _I don't know what you are raging over, but I've about had _enough__._What are you even doing here, Potter_?"_

The use of his surname brought him back to reality. Or, it at least allowed for a moment of clarity in which he realized he had, indeed, stormed into Lily Evans's place of work on a holiday and promptly begun yelling over some nonsense Sirius had planted in his brain. Nonsense that may or may not have any factual basis.

Defeated, he allowed some of the fight to drain out of his body, taking a deep breath as his shoulders slumped. "I learned the song."

Lily had visibly calmed, as well. "You…learned a song?"

"_Yes_," he admitted, shoving his hands grumpily into his pockets and staring hard at the floor. "'No risk, no reward.' I learned that bloody song you were singing in the office, and I was going to come _sing_ it to you like some giant show-off prat, which makes absolutely _no sense_ because you hate when I show off, but the lads said that—."

"You wanted to sing for me?" Her voice had gotten softer, and it encouraged him to look up and meet her eyes. She was smiling.

"Unless you're busy with some other bloke. Then, I can leave and we can forget this ever happened."

Something seemed to dawn on her, for her eyes lit up. "You mean that stranger who I just arranged a bouquet for? A bouquet for his _mother_."

It _would be_ for his mother. "Well…that is, that is very nice of whoever that was. I hope his mother…enjoys those. I should probably buy flowers for _my_ mum, shouldn't I?"

"_James_."

"Yes?" His voice was still a tad off.

"Why did you want to sing to me? And who the hell is Kevin?"

He sighed, looking down at the floor and back up again. "Kevin is…Kevin is every time you walk into the Head's office and you have a piece of hair in your face and I want to move it..tuck it behind your ear or something, and I don't. Kevin is all the Hogsmeade weekends that have passed when I've wanted to ask you to come in with me and then chickened out at the last minute. Kevin is that time you got gurdy root stuck in your eye in Potions and I wanted to tell you it was as beautiful as ever, but I took the mickey and called you Cyclops for three days. He's…every bloody missed opportunity. All of them."

He mustered the courage to look directly at her, but her countenance was giving away nothing. In fact, she looked strangely serious.

"That makes absolutely no sense." She walked out from behind the counter then, and he slumped further as she came to stand in front of him. She hesitated.

"But you know what else doesn't make sense? When I make up reasons to wipe invisible sugar off your face so I can stand really close to you and hope that maybe—_just maybe_—you'll finally make a move."

_What?_

"_What?_"

She stepped even closer still, angling her face toward his, a wry smile upon it. "You aren't the only one feeling like an idiot lately."

"I'm…I'm not?"

"Don't make me spell it out for you, Potter. But if you really need the assist, we _are_ in a flower shop so non-poisonous mistletoe could be arrang-."

But it was all too much, and not nearly damned enough, and if he didn't kiss her in that moment he was sure he would perish on the spot. Lily hadn't even finished her sentence before a pair of arms wrapped around her, her words silenced by the press of warm lips—_finally_—against hers.

Her mouth was soft and pliant against his, the curve of her body fitting as neatly with his as he'd imagined it would. It was several blissful minutes before either needed air, and even after, she only moved away enough to rest her head against his shoulder, letting out a small but contented gasp.

"That was rather fantastic." He murmured.

Lily squeezed the sides of his arms, standing on tiptoes to press their mouths together once more, this time for a sweet and succinct peck.

She grinned against his mouth. "It was. You're a much better snog than Kevin O'Reilly."

"Oy, I knew it!" He laughed and attempted to swot her bum, but she was already squiggling away from him, skipping just out of his reach. "You're going to get it, Evans!"

"Not if you're going to sulk." She playfully danced from one foot to another in front of him. "And not if you can't get me."

"Let's not let Kevin ruin Christmas, yeah?"

He reached out again. And this time he caught her.


End file.
